


Falling Faster Than You Can Run

by Southbroom



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, i think, more chapters coming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:14:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southbroom/pseuds/Southbroom
Summary: Season 3 didn't happen. Miller is confused about her feelings for Hardy.
Relationships: Alec Hardy/Ellie Miller
Comments: 7
Kudos: 57





	1. I'd Be Waiting

Ellie peeled off her orange shell as she climbed the stairs. When she stepped out her front door it had been drizzling, but in the fifteen minutes it took her to reach the beach the sun had peaked out again. She was annoyed at the layer of sweat on her brow in the morning humidity.

Then she stopped dead and rubbed her eyes in disbelief – Hardy, sprawled out in one of his deck chairs. He was a tad oversized for the furniture with spider-like limbs sticking out in all directions. At the end of his hand was a book folded back over itself like it was glossy gossip magazine. He lifted his other hand to turn the page and in a single movement picked up the cup of tea next to him, lifting it to his lips. All of this happened without his eyes leaving the page. A practiced movement.

Ellie was continuously surprised the many facets of her colleague’s personality that seemed to appear out of nowhere. She had met him during the worst time of both of their lives. Ellie only realized how anxious and insular he had been now that time had passed. A year on from Latimer trial and the Sandbrook case, Hardy seemed to have hobbies, and furniture, and a daughter and busy nights. She remembered the first time she saw all of the books in the beach house. She remembered thinking that Daisy must be quiet a reader. It was only later that she realized that it was Hardy’s books. _Hardy._ It was impossible for her to equate Hardy the workaholic with leisure. She had seen half-finished books on the coffee table and on his bedside table, but never had she seem him actually reading. Seeing him lounge in the morning sun was something else completely.

“Hardy.” she announced, almost feeling guilty for breaking his focus.

“Mph.” he said, pulling off his glasses to see her. “You’re early. It’s not eleven is it?”

Ellie checked her phone, “Ten past.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Time flies when you’re having fun.” she joked, to no reply.

She walked into the house and put the kettle on, Hardy close on her steps.

“Where’s Daisy?”

“With Chloe off to Weymouth. Shopping.”

“Again? She’ll break your bank account.”

“Not with the peanuts she gets from me.”

“Don’t you want to go with her to check if she’s alright? You might see something you like at the mall.” Ellie teased.

“I’ll go to the mall if you to Minecon with Tom.”

“That’s not a fair deal!”

“Definitely not.” He agreed.

Ellie smiled. She pulled out a two packs documents from her handbag, depositing them on the counter with a bang.

“Bennie Smith’s file. Happy reading.”

Hardy examined the front page while Ellie made herself tea. Instead of moving to their usual spot on the couch, Ellie suggested that they sit on the deck chairs.

Half an hour later she finished scanning the file. Hardy was still busy with his copy, but not for long.

Ellie gazed out at the long ocean horizon. If it was not for her and Hardy both wearing shoes, they could almost be on holiday somewhere. She shook that thought away. They were working! But her imagination was getting the better of her. She imagined Hardy relaxed like he was readying his book a few minutes ago, but under a palm tree. In her head he was shirtless, and instead of tea he was holding a coconut with a straw coming out of it. She was about to interrogate where that thought-

“Anything caught your eye?” he asked, placing the bound pages on his lap.

“That’s an awful amount of money going to car insurance each month.”

Hardy picked up the document, “I suppose his twenty-year-old son was driving it. And a luxury car like that would come with a lot of money to cover. I was drawn to his wife’s income. Its inconsistent. What was she? A nurse?”

“A caretaker at a private retirement facility.” Ellie clarified, “And you’re right. She should have a steadier income, not an extra quid this month, an extra three the next.”

“Another way of laundering the money?”

“Definitely.” Ellie agreed, “But how to prove it? We could enquire to see the company’s bank statements, but I doubt we’d get that far without a warrant.”

“We need a charge first.” Hardy sighed, “We still can’t prove anything.”

Their thoughts ran dry. Hardy sipped the last of his cup, resting it on his jumper. Ellie stared at the wool, embarrassed by her thought of him shirtless. Not that she had ever seen him shirtless, she reminded herself. She wondered if there would be a scar on his chest from the surgery.

“There is something we are not seeing.” Hardy said, but Ellie was not quite present. “Miller?”

“Huh, yes. You’re right.”

x

Miller seemed off, he decided. She came in all chirpy, but there was something wrong, he could tell. Tom was doing well at school again, despite the intense interest in video games. Fred was happy as always. Perhaps it was the anniversary of something? His head clocked back. It was June, but the anniversary of Danny’s death was only in a few weeks… Then, he clicked.

“Florida was two years ago today, wasn’t it?”

“What?” she looked up at him in bewilderment. Her body language changed into a defensive position, her arms crossing. Hardy wanted to slap himself. That was the wrong thing to say.

“Why are you bringing up hi- why are you even thinking of that?” she paused, her face pulled in concentration, “Is that all you think goes through my head, Joe, Joe, Joe, Danny, Joe?” she snapped.

Hardy stared, wondering how things went so sour so quickly. One minute they were sitting in the sun, like a daydream of his, busy enjoying a peaceful Sunday together. Hardy opened his mouth like a fish, but nothing productive came out.

“Wow you are…” she trailed off, apparently to angry to look at him.

Hardy sat up in his chair, swinging his legs over and facing her.

“Millah.” He tried, in a soft voice. When that did not work, he dared to place a hand on her forearm. “I did not mean to make you think about Joe, or Danny. And I don’t think that is what you think of all day. I think that-“ he was treading on thin ice, “The fuck-up circumstances of the last two years. You’re so strong, Miller. Much stronger than anyone else. And you’re there always there for your boys. I don’t know how you…”

She was staring at him now, still slightly angry. He hoped his face was conveying how earnest and defenseless he felt, “You just seemed lost for a moment and I thought it might be an important day I forgot about. But I was wrong. Clearly. I’m sorry.”

He removed his hand. They sat in silence for a while, Hardy looking anywhere but at her.

“It was a bit of an over-reaction.” she said at last, “I don’t like thinking of Florida if I can help it.”

“That’s perfectly reasonable. Whenever I think of Tess for long enough its just-“

“A mammoth betrayal. Extremely selfish. Hurtful.” Ellie filled in.

Hardy nodded, knowing that Ellie was perhaps one of the few people who had felt that betrayal, only that hers was much worse than his.

x

They watched another family stop by the beach, busy unloading the boot and taking out umbrellas and picnic baskets. It was a postcard day. Ellie would want to go for a walk if she was not so content at where she was. Hardy was reading the document again. Ellie was thinking about how lunch at Lucy’s would start soon and she that she would have to leave.

Without thinking much about it, she reached out and picked up Hardy’s free hand. Being careful with it, she pulled it into the gap between their two chairs, holding loosely.

She was gaping at their hands, even the use of that word in her head, _their,_ her and _Hardy_ , seemed ridiculous. But she hoped that if she kept her grip soft, he would forget about this moment and allow it to slip.

But then the document was tossed to the floor and she was overwhelmed, again, by his full attention directed at her. Big, round eyes were peering at her under dark lashes. He seemed boyish, not almost fifty, and she knew that she was blushing so hot that he would certainly notice.

But he did not say anything, just gripped back, the same weak force she was exerting. Both of their eyes facing forward, watching the people and the gulls and the waves.

It seemed a lifetime before she had the courage to announce that she must leave for Lucy’s. She got up, her hand felt like it was burning. “Thank you for the tea, Hardy.”

“Thank you for this, Miller.” He said formally, reaching down and picking up the papers. They shuffled past one another and Miller darted to the pathway.

“See you tomorrow!” she called, legs skipping like a plover’s over the sand.

x


	2. Don't Get Too Close

Hardy arrived at the station brimming with anticipation.

The events of the previous morning had left him with a glimmer of something he never thought would happen with Miller: hope. Hope for what? He dared not say it by name but she, out of her own free will, had held his hand for about fifteen minutes. After two years of “Don’t hug me.” and “We’re not friends”, Miller was sitting beside him, allowing him to talk and be vulnerable and-

Maybe it was a trick of the light. A once off. But maybe, just maybe, there was something there. Maybe Miller wanted what had been his pipedreams had been for longer than he’s admit to out loud.

He had a plan. He would, at lunch, after they visited The Daffodils Care Home where Bennie Smith’s wife worked, ask her if she wanted to come over for dinner sometime in the week. At his place. It did not matter if Fred came with, but Tom would surely stay home to in front of the computer screen. As for Daisy, she would most probably be working in her bedroom. If Fred passes out on the couch, he could bargain on having Miller alone for a while. He could suggest that they sit outside if the weather is good and…

Best not to think too ahead, he reminded himself.

The office was full of the usual morning chatter. He could see Bob chatting to Amanda, and the new uniform he always forgets the name of making herself toast in the kitchenette. Ellie approached him from around the corner.

“Hi. I want to do the debrief this morning.” she told him, walking straight past him to her office.

“Right.” He called after her.

Was he reading her wrong or was that cold?

“Mornin’, Hardy.” Lazlo greeted him.

“Good morning.”

“How was the weekend, then?” he asked.

“Good.” Hardy said, peering over to see if he could spot Miller behind the glass.

“I had the time of my life yesterday. My mother came over from Newcastle and we had a proper Sunday lunch. Roast chicken, gravy, potatoes, the works. You always forget how much you miss you mum’s cooking. Meaning no offence to my girlfriend’s cooking, if you know what I mean. Hey, you feeling well, Hardy? You look tired.”

“I’m fine.” He said, “Sorry, I just gotta talk to Millah quickly.”

She came out of her office carrying a notepad.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked. Since Miller was a DI now, she called most of the shots. But they had an arrangement that he usually debriefed the station each week since Hardy was more comfortable with public speaking.

“Yes. I’m in the mood for it.” Miller said, “Just checking, its SOCO results on the Douglas case, Daffodils Care Home for you and me today, Amanda and Peter on the noise complaints in Brair cliff, the uniforms on usual patrol, and Lazlo, Violet and Ryan helping with the financials on Bennie Smith?”

“Isn’t there some big football match on Saturday.”

“Ah yes, traffic for that, thanks.”

He followed her to the kitchenette where the meetings are held, just having time to squeeze in a quick: “Are you okay?”, and actually meaning, “Are we okay? Was yesterday weird for you too? I hope you’re not freaking out like I am.”

“I’m fine.” she said, almost rolling her eyes. “Right! Morning all. Good morning, yes. Happy Monday.”

x

At about eleven Miller collected Hardy and they left for The Daffodils. In the car on the way there, Ellie kept on babbling about Fred, and then her father, and making small talk. She kept expecting Hardy to ask about the hand holding yesterday, but he never did. She was grateful.

The care home was about halfway to Weymouth in a sleek seventies building that overlooked the ocean. There were a few cottages to the side, where elders lived who did not need intensive care yet. Hardy and Ellie entered the main reception, asking after Ava Griffiths, the manager.

They were led into a modest office where a fan was turned on. It was making photos on a pin board dance.

“DI Miller and DI Hardy of Broadchurch. Golly, I feel as if I’m in a movie. We never have important visitors around here. What can I do for you?”

“Mrs. Griffiths, we are here to enquire about one of your employees, Christine Smith.” Hardy said.

“Christie? Is she in trouble?”

“Not that we are aware of.” Miller said.

“She’s in today if you would like to speak to her.”

“We would appreciate that.” Miller said, “What is it that she does here?”

“She’s a caretaker. For three years now. She’s good with the oldies, especially the widows. She used to be a grief counselor at the hospital.”

“For how long?”

“Maybe ten years? I have her CV filed away somewhere here.”

“What about her family life? Married, kids?”

“She has a husband. They almost separated two years ago, but they patched everything up. No children. But she’s still young. Maybe soon.”

“Everything good financially?”

“Oh yes. Her husband, Bennie, works in I.T. They went on holiday to Ibiza last summer. Sounds like things are going well.”

“How much do you pay Christie?”

“About 1650 pounds per month, if I remember correctly.”

“Any bonuses?”

“Over Christmas, yes. Can I ask what this is about?”

Hardy cuts her off, “Any other payments made to her by the care home over the last year?”

Ava Griffiths pauses for a moment, “Mrs. Fredricks, one of the residents. She has dementia. In March she got a hold of Christie’s car keys. She drove into a tree and broke her wrist.”

“That terrible.” Ellie sympathizes.

“Yes. She was really upset about it all, Mrs Fredricks. The Daffodils has been compensating Christie for the damage done to her car.”

“Over the last few months?”

“That’s right” she confirms, eyeing Hardy scribble into his booklet.

“Okay.” Ellie says, “Where can we find Christie?”

The detectives are led to a vegetable garden outside. Two women are kneeling down behind a trellis of beans.

“Hello Marian, why don’t you come walk with me.” Ava takes the old lady by the arm, “Christie, there are the detectives I told you about.”

“Hello, DI Miller.”

“Hello, nice to meet you, Christie Smith” she greeted.

“DI Hardy.”

Everyone shook hands.

She was a short woman with a thick bob of brown hair. She wore earrings with ladybirds in them. There was a natural calmness about her. Ellie did not know what she was expecting the wife of a man convicted for several petty theft cases and drug dealership to look like. She had seen photos of Bennie - a tall, tattooed and classically handsome man. Christie was soft-spoken, petite and polite. A bit nerdy. Modest.

“We are here to enquire about your inconsistent monthly wages here at the Daffodils.” Hardy started.

“Ah is this about Mrs. Fredrick’s car accident? They have been paying me back for the damage caused to my car.”

“Shouldn’t the insurance cover that?”

“Oh my car is not insured. My husband does not believe in insurance.” she clarified.

“They have been paying different amounts each month for the last three months.”

“Have you been investigating Bennie again? I don’t know how many times we have to tell you people, Bennie had a wild youth. But he’s clean now. He works at an I.T. company. He has two sons. We’re happy together. We have a stable, boring life. The moment something gets stolen in Wessex, the police always come knocking on our door.”

“Does your husband handle all your financial affairs?” Miller asks.

“Yes. He is good with numbers.”

“That will be all. Have a good day, Mrs. Smith.” Hardy says, and they walk off.

x

On winding road back into Broadchurch, Ellie and Hardy reflect on the interview.

“She’s hiding something.” Hardy says.

“Or she’s pretending to be clueless.” Ellie suspects.

“But she was defensive, thinking we were after Bennie before we brought it up.”

“Also, he is not telling her that his son’s car and his van are insured.”

“Yes, I picked up on that too.” Hardy says.

“What is our next step?”

“Ask Lazlo to dig around the books some more?”

“And you and I can do some searching on drug busts in the three months, in relation to those payments that the Daffodils make to Christie.” Miller adds.

x

Over lunch time, Hardy is in his office, picking at his packed lunch with a fork. He was doing mental gymnastics, working out his phrasing in his head. After several minutes he walked over to Miller. She was also perched at her desk, gnawing at a scotch egg.

“Heyo.” She greeted.

“Do you feel like having dinner with me with week?” he blurted out.

“I dunno if I feel like doing another work thing right now.” She said after a while.

Hardy couldn’t tell if she was being cold or sarcastic or sweet.

“What do you mean?”

There were three knocks on the door. “Ah, Hardy you’re here too.” It was Elaine. She was asking after the Daffodils visit.

Hardy sat in sullen silence while the women talked. A work thing? What on earth did Ellie holding his hand have to do with work?

“Lazlo says that he thinks money is being laundered into their joint bank account from many different sources.”

“Drug money?”

“It would make sense. It was only eleven years ago when we found cocaine at Bennie’s residence. And two years before that, when I was still in uniform, we found heaps of stollen cell phones and wallets at his friend JP’s house, where Bennie was staying over for a few months.”

“Classy people.” Elaine said, “Hardy, what do you make of it?”

“The guy is dealing again or stealing again. We just have to find out how. He bought his son a Audi Sport for his eighteenth birthday, and mention of a holiday to Ibiza. What kind of a small town I.T. technician can afford all that? Much less an ex-convict?”

Elaine nodded, “Good work, as always. Enjoy your lunch then. Sorry for interrupting.”

When the door closed with a click, Miller picked up right where she left off, “Yes. I just feel like we should keep our dinners working dinners, don’t you think?”

“Right.” Hardy agreed, “So that’s a no?”

She was losing patience with him, “Not for working dinners.”

“Aye.” He said, but not feeling it. He took one last bite of his pasta, watching her stare at the corner of the room. “Okay then, Millah.” He said, getting up and leaving, clicking the door closed behind him. He felt the tidal wave of disappointment wash over him. 

x


	3. Don't Be So Bashful Its Me

It was almost dark when he got a text from Daisy.

_hey dad im with chloe can u pick me up? its getting dark._

He stuck his head out the window.

_please I know its not that dark but ive had a long day._

Hardy felt no sympathy for Daisy to walk home this time of the day. He had grown up in a family were there had been no cars, and it was the bus and his two feet that got him where he needed to be. Despite this, Hardy decided he’d let it slip. A few years ago Daisy was not speaking to him, and now she needed him. He could pick her up and she could help him make dinner. It was still early enough.

It was a short drive to the Latimers. Daisy picked up on the first ring.

“Hello darlin’ I’m outside.”

“Really? I don’t see you? Oh wait sorry I am at Ellie’s house. Forgot to tell you.”

His heart jumped, “What are you doing at Miller’s?”

“Chlo and I are here with Tom and his friends. Just send me a text when you get here.”

“Okay then.”

“Thanks, dad.”

A trip around the meadow and he was in Miller’s driveway.

Hardy felt strange being here, especially since Miller’s ban on them seeing each other socially. Or so he thought that is what she meant?

Hardy sat in his car when his curiosity got the better of him. He decided that he wanted to see who these friends of Tom were, since he was not familiar with many of Daisy’s male friends. Here was the chance to do some snooping.

The familiar overgrown bushes and weeds brush against his trousers and he felt uneasy letting himself through the door. Perhaps he could slip in and out without Miller noticing? There was an assemblage of teenagers in the lounge. Majority of them were sitting on the couch, busy gigging and eating crisps. Chloe and Dais were the only girls, with four tiny men arguing over a game console.

“Hi dad!” Daisy said, and then in a lower voice, “I told you to text me when you got here.”

They walked to the front door when Miller appeared at the top of the stairs.

“Oh, you’re leaving, Daisy? I just ordered pizzas.”

“Can we stay for dinner, dad?” Daisy asked.

Hardy looked at the gleeful face of his daughter and Miller’s surprised face at him being here. She looked commanding from this angle, Hardy thought to himself. Like a queen on a throne, with both of her arms touching the railings.

“I dunno, darlin’ we were not invited.”

“Stay.” Miller said, “There are seven pizzas on the way. We are going to need help eating.”

“Okay cool thanks, Ellie.” Daisy said brightly, waltzing back into the room declaring, “Tom, your mum ordered pizza.”

Hardy looked at Miller stoically as she galloped down the stairs. He trailed her into the kitchen. She poured him a glass of wine. He considered it, balancing it in his hand.

“So, should I fetch some files? I can only be here when it’s a work dinner, right?” Hardy asked sarcastically.

Miller’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t be a fuckwit.”

“What do you want from me, Miller?” he snapped back with equal annoyance.

Miller slammed the fridge closed. Unlike Hardy, she had dressed out of her work clothes and into a plum-coloured shirt. Her hair was wet from a shower, the aggressive curls seeming more defined than usual. Standing there in her slippers, she appeared casual, relaxed. But under the surface Hardy could sense a thunderstorm. Maybe he should have just taken Daisy home.

x

“Fred!” she scorned, “What did I tell you about the wellies?”

Ellie scooped him up, walking out the back door and explaining to him that the boots need to sleep outside. If things couldn’t get any more manic, she noticed he had messed mud all over his pajamas. She pulled the boots off, kneeling in the garden and looking at him sternly.

“You know this is naughty.”

The four-year-old had tears in his eyes. Ellie could sense the tantrum before it even began. After changing his muddy pajamas, Ellie left him to cry it out upstairs in his bedroom. She remembered hating herself when she first ignored Tom’s tantrums. Now, after fifteen years of motherhood, she was stronger. She knew this was the best was to discipline him, to not giving Fred the attention he was demanding. He would come back downstairs when he felt better.

She had forgotten Hardy was here, and jumped when she was him balancing a tower of cardboard, watching carefully where he was going while navigating the passageway. He was followed by the six hungry teenagers, who congregated in the dining room, pulling in more chairs from outside.

“Do you have some Tabasco, Ellie?” asked Chloe.

“In the door of the fridge. Now there are two Hawaiians, two Reginas, one with chicken-“ Ellie announced.

“This one is Fred’s.” Tom said, handing Ellie a Margarita.

Over the mess she caught sight of Hardy, his posture cramped as he leaned down to speak to his duaghter. Daisy said something and she could see him bark a laugh.

Ellie promptly retreated to the kitchen. The invasion of teenagers, Fred, Hardy, work... She retrieved her wine and collapsed against the counter. Hardy came in a few moments later, setting down a pizza beside her.

“Thanks for cleaning up after Fred.” she said, feeling a pang of embarrassment for the state of her life. She could see the kitchen tiles were still shiny where he had wiped away the muddy footprints.

“Mph.” he said.

“He’s upstairs now. I leave him alone for half an hour to take a shower and he’s digging trenches in the garden. Fred can thank the stars that Joe left, because I don’t give a shit about the garden. I gave in. I just allow him to cut what he likes, dig what he likes.”

Hardy just listened to her rant, his long fingers curving around the sink. The laugher in the other room was ominous now, and Ellie searched for something to say to him, anything.

“I didn’t know Tom and Daisy were friends.”

“Neither did I.” Hardy said.

“I didn’t know Tom and Chloe were friends either. You know, besides being family friends and all.”

“Yeah.”

Fred came into the room then, eyeing Hardy up and down like a flagpole.

“Say hello to Uncle Alec.” she reminded him.

“Hullo Alec.” The boy said, bashful all of a sudden.

“I heard you were digging in the garden.”

“For treasure.” Fred confirmed, “Jake says X marks the spot.”

“Jake is a Never Land Pirate.” Ellie filled him in.

“If I was a pirate I would sail to a treasure island.” The boy babbled, covering his one eye with his hand, “And I would bring mummy jewels.” He told Hardy, “And Tom lots of food.”

“Does your bother eat a lot?”

Fred nodded.

“He’s growing like a bear.” Ellie said, “Over the weekend he ate an entire bread for lunch.”

“Mum and I only had on slice-”

“One slice each.”

“-but Tom ate it all. Everything!” Fred said.

Hardy and Ellie listened to the boy babble on. Tom popped his head into the kitchen.

“Mum, we’re going to play some more GTA. I promise I’ll clean up when everyone leaves.”

“Ten minutes. It’s a school night.”

“Fine.” he sighed.

Fred kept them busy with his antics, explaining to Hardy all about Captain Hook. There was a patience about Hardy when it came to her youngest. He probed for questions at the right times but allowed Fred the space to expand on his wild ideas. Ellie wondered when Hardy had become a part of her life. She realized, with sadness, that Fred had spent more time with this man than his own father.

In this context, she mused, there was nothing wrong with Hardy. He wasn’t didn’t seem to have the social savvy of a walnut. He wasn’t in a perpetually gloomy mood. She supposed he was even better with kids than most men.

Not that she cared to include him as a father figure for her son. She blinked, looking at the scene in front of her and realizing that it was already happening. It had _been_ happening, since she was still pushing Fred around in his stroller.

Her thoughts spiraled back to Sunday morning, when she had held his hand as if they were both eight. It was not that she could _prevent_ Hardy from entering her social life. He was already a part of it. They had brought groceries together. He knew where she stashed the Kit-Kats in her office was. _Shit,_ she panicked, because they had even shared a bed.

Her phone rang.

“Good Evening this is DI Ellie Miller.”

“Good Evening, detective. Sorry for calling so late in the evening. This is Dennis from Aviva Insurance UK. I am calling because the sensitive information of at least fifteen thousand of our clients has pulled from an IP address in the Wessex area this morning.”

“ _Fifteen thousand_?” she repeated. Hardy gave her a quizzical look.

“Yes. We have evidence that names, addresses and policy details was accessed from a server under the IP number 192.367.0.2. I’ve traced the Google Maps location to be 23 High Street, of eh…” he paused, articulating, “ _Broadchurch_. That is where you are based, right?”

“That’s correct.” Ellie confirmed, “23 High Street? That could either be from a café or an apartment on the first story.”

“It will be from a private residence, ma’am. All IP addresses that start with 19- are for personal residences.”

“Right.” Ellie agreed, feeling slightly clueless.

“-Yes. Its policy to inform the local police station when cyber theft takes place, even if it falls under NCA’s cyber investigative unit. I would just like to inform you that someone from the NCA will contact you tomorrow morning. Aviva takes cyber security seriously and we are dedicated to the protection of our client’s data.”

“Our station’s digital crime specialist will gladly assist with the investigation.”

“Fantastic. We would like to locate the individual and press charges as soon as possible. But the National Crime Agency will be in contact with you first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you for your time. Have a great evening, DI Miller.”

Ellie put the phone down, “That was someone from Aviva Car Insurance.” She explained the situation to Hardy.

“National cyber-crime unit. Sounds like Lazlo’s people.” Hardy said thoughtfully, “I did not know we had hackers in town.”

“Neither did I.” Ellie said, pondering, “If it’s a residence we could send uniform first thing tomorrow to check out the place. If that’s what NCA recommends.”

“We did a lot of work with them in the original Sandbrook investigation.” Hardy said, “Very professional but-“ he hesitated, “Big headed. They are going to tell us what to do.”

Ellie stopped herself from pointing out that when he arrived in Broadchurch, he did exactly the same thing to everyone at the station. She remembered Bob Daniel coining his nickname “Shithead”, complaining about his holier-than-thou big city attitude.

“I supposed that’s better.” Ellie pointed out, “Cyber-crime is not exactly my or your area of expertise.”

Hardy nodded, “Interesting times.”

x

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the Nathaniel Rateliff album of the same name :) Highly recommend it. The man is a poet.


End file.
